


not your fault but mine

by impsy



Series: time and time through an open flame [2]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: (Or is it?), Angst, Blow Jobs, Guilt, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impsy/pseuds/impsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Miles let Monroe capture him so the others could escape Philadelphia, he learns firsthand just how much Bas has changed in their years apart, and is forced to confront the mistakes he made when he led him down this path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not your fault but mine

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it took me so long to finish this, many apologies! Endless thanks to my love [Kawa](kawabiala.tumblr.com) for bouncing ideas around with me and writing hundreds of words of meta. I have plans for this to be a five part series and part three is already half done, so expect more soon. :)
> 
> Title blatantly stolen from Mumford & Sons.

Time passed differently in a cell, especially a windowless one, but Miles was fairly sure that it had been a week since Charlie, Danny, Rachel and the others escaped and he stayed behind to let himself be captured.

It was the only way they'd have a shot of getting out, he'd told Charlie. Looked her straight in the eyes and told her not to worry, that he had a plan for getting out.

It wasn't exactly a lie. He just failed to mention that his plan involved getting himself killed.

Unfortunately, that hadn't worked so well.

He hadn't heard a word about the others since Charlie's last tearful glance and shout to keep himself safe as they ran, so he doubted they'd been taken. Did they even think of him anymore? He was sure that Rachel had told Charlie the truth about why she'd been locked up for ten years, so if he was being honest, he doubted his own existence would ever come up again. Charlie wasn't exactly the forgive and forget type.

But then the door to his makeshift cell opened, and the only "family" he had left came strolling in, flanked by two guards, just as he had been the last time.

"Tie him up," Monroe instructed, and just like last time, they promptly dragged him to the single chair in the room and roped his wrists behind it before being sent away. But this time, he didn't bother to resist. Let them think the fight was out of him, that he'd broken after what Ba- _Monroe_ , had done to him.

But they weren't quite as good with ropes as Monroe was, and there was some give in the loops tying him to the chair. Not a lot, but maybe enough...

Bas lit the lamp, giving the room some flickering light and casting his face in shadows as he smiled. Miles couldn't help wincing at the light.

"Hello, Miles."

He didn't reply, but he didn't look away, either. Just stared up at him, hate shining through his eyes, all the while steadily working on freeing his wrists from the rope.

"The guards tell me you've been eating. Glad you've stopped starving yourself." His eyes swept over Miles' body, frowning at the pathetic picture he made. Tied to a chair, bags under his eyes, dirty and shirtless still after Bas had stripped him days ago, every rib standing out against his bruised and bloody torso.

Meanwhile, Bas stood tall and confident in his uniform, his arms behind his back and his stance wide.

"A 'hello' too much to ask for? A 'good evening,' maybe?" He paused, glancing around the dank, dark room with an elegantly raised eyebrow. "Although I guess it's tough to know the time without windows."

"You need something?" Miles fought to keep his voice casual, his wrists chafing as he tugged on them with as little movement as possible. "Or did you just come down here to chat?"

Bas chuckled, but his eyes had no emotion in them at all. "Still mad?"

He snorted, rubbing his wrists against the rope. "Hard to believe, I know. You'd think fucking secrets out of me wouldn't be a problem after everything else, but what can you do."

Bas raised an eyebrow at him, his face a well-practiced mask of indifference that Miles knew all too well. "Ends justify the means, right Miles? You kept trying to teach me that. Maybe after all these years it finally sunk in."

He shook his head, clenching his jaw, and focused on freeing his wrists, trying not to think of how he'd led him down this path, had made him this way, had as good as done this to himself. "Not like this. Not when-"

"What, when it's you? You think you deserve special treatment?" He smirked. "I guess that is what you're used to."

Miles couldn't help snarling at this, and he felt the ropes start to give. "Go fuck yourself."

He smirked, his eyes scanning Miles' body without a hint of shame. "No need. Why else do you think I'm-"

But he couldn't finish the question - Miles pulled his arms free with a gasp of air and he lunged forward, taking a wild swing at Monroe.

He hoped that the element of surprise would give him an edge, but Bas knew all his tricks, had taught him most of them, and dodged his swing easily. But apparently he hadn't anticipated Miles flinging himself so bodily at him, and they both went flying backwards into the wall, knocking the chair over with a clatter.

Miles put everything he had into their grappling, but they had trained together, sparred so many times that they still knew each others' strength and weaknesses, even after all these years, and were fairly evenly matched. Bas had the advantage of being well-rested and fed, but Miles' desperation kept him upright even when Bas' fist collided with his jaw so hard he saw stars.

A lucky hit to Bas' side gave Miles the chance to knock the air from his lungs with a solid follow-up punch to the stomach, and he took advantage of Bas' gasp for air to grab him by the shoulders and spin him around, holding his arms behind his back and shoving him against the wall.

Not his smartest move, in retrospect. Bas' body against him was like the first hit of a drug he was particularly susceptible to, no matter how many years he'd been clean. He sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw, but the feeling of skin against skin where he held Bas' wrists pressed tight against the small of his back was an electric shock that sent tremors racing through him, and he couldn't help a shiver. The heat of his body and rough fabric of his uniform were taking him back to all the other times, better times, that he'd shoved Bas up against a wall, yanking his pants down and pushing inside the tight heat of his ass, hearing him gasping for air, pushing back against him with the little leverage Miles let him have-

"There's nowhere to go," Bas cut in, his voice muffled. "Two armed guards at each exit, nobody goes anywhere alone-"

"I wrote the fucking rules. I remember how it works."

Bas huffed a laugh, pressing back against Miles' quickly hardening cock. "I can tell."

"Shut up." Miles shoved him against the wall, harder this time, and twisted Bas' wrists, wanting him to hurt, and was gratified when he gasped and squirmed. "I've got a hostage, and they can't let you die."

He didn't even bat an eye. "That'd only work if you would actually kill me, and we both know you-"

"Keep telling yourself that," he hissed, his fingers digging into Bas' arms so hard he'd have bruises for days. "Maybe you'll believe it when I put a fucking bullet through your eye."

"You won't kill me," he repeated, twisting around as much as possible and locking eyes with him. "You've tried twice now and you _can't._ And you know it."

Miles wrestled with himself, telling himself to break Bas's arm, pop his shoulder out of joint, something, _anything_ to show he was serious.

But he was right. He couldn't kill him. Couldn't even hurt him, not even after everything, after so many betrayals and killings, he was still lost, drawn to him like a moth to the flame, knowing all the while that he was flying straight to his own destruction but helpless to stop himself.

He snarled and released him, stalking away, hatred and shame burning up his insides. "Fuck you, Bas."

Monroe chuckled, and the sound was so slimy, so smug, that Miles actually recoiled. "If you ask nicely."

Miles whirled around to take another swing at him, but Bas was ready for him this time, dodging the blow and grabbing Miles' wrist. Bas used his own momentum against him, flipping him around and shoving him back against the wall, pressing their chests together.

Bas's forearm pressed tightly on his collarbone and his other hand held his right wrist to the wall, and he struggled, trying to push him away. "Get the hell off me, Bas, _fuck_ -"

"Protesting too much, Miles," Bas murmured. "Didn't seem to have a problem last time."

Their faces were only a few inches apart, and the heat of Bas's body against his was too much to bear, more than he could be expected to resist. He wasn't a strong man. Never had been when it came to Bas.

"You knew how I fe-" He cut himself off, his hands balled into useless fists, and looked away for a moment. The blue of Monroe's eyes so close to his own was intoxicating, hypnotizing. "You knew if you pretended to give a shit I'd believe you. You _used_ me. To find a fucking _pendant_ -"

"Don't act so fucking superior, Miles. You would have done the same thing."

"Bullshit."

He scoffed. "You kept telling me how we needed to fix things. To give people stability. How am I supposed to do that without the power, Miles?" He shrugged with a casual grace and Miles hated him, hated him. "You had information. I needed it. I knew you'd talk if- if I said what you wanted to hear. What did you expect me to do?"

"You could have asked!" He couldn't believe he was saying this. He couldn't believe he actually meant it. "Jesus, Bas, you could have just asked me. But instead you- You know I want- fuck." He ground his teeth together, his heart a steady ache in his chest. "But you used me. Made me think you actually still..." He couldn't say the words, but he'd said enough.

"You think I don't?" His voice was low, sweet, seductive, and Miles tried to pull away, trapped by the wall and Bas' body. "The only thing I ever cared about was you."

Before Miles could even process that he'd moved, Bas was kissing him, his hands gripping his arms tightly, his body pressed even tighter against him, the rough fabric of his uniform scratching his skin, the metal buttons digging into his bruises and making him gasp for breath even as he felt like all the oxygen was sucked out of the room.

He reached up to grab at Bas's shoulders before he could stop himself, deepening the kiss, and Bas groaned into his mouth, grinding his hips against him.

He wanted... He wanted a lot of things, but wanting to believe him was right at the top of that list.

But- _No._ How could he, after what Bas had done?

He shoved him away without warning and took a wild swing, holding nothing back when he slugged him in the jaw. Bas grunted in pain, taken so much by surprise that Miles got his first genuine response out of him. He stumbled backwards, one hand reaching up to his face as he fell to his knees, catching himself with his other hand and scraping it on the rough cement of the boiler room floor.

Miles made no move to help him up. "What the hell do you want from me, Bas?"

Bas huffed a laugh and let himself sink to the floor, one hand behind him on the cement, sitting with his legs spread wide in a way that he _had_ to know was fucking distracting. "Thought I might be able to get you to cooperate."

"Why would I do something like that?"

His smile was false, his eyes emotionless as he spoke. "Because otherwise, I'll tell my men to kill your friends when they find them."

Miles clenched his jaw, his hands balled into fists, and tried to come up with a good reason not to bash Monroe's skull in.

Bas took in the sight, but didn't seem at all concerned. He just leaned back on his hands, stretching out his legs, his posture casual, a grin plastered on his face. "Go ahead, Miles. Hit me. Nobody's stopping you."

It was that grin, the falseness of it, and the half-wild look in his eyes that gave Miles pause. "You want me to." It wasn't a question. His words were slow, measured, as he tried to process exactly what the hell he'd been overlooking this whole time.

Bas scoffed, but he looked away, pushing up off the ground and brushing at his uniform, frowning at the dirt and putting off meeting Miles' eyes again.

Miles didn't bother trying not to smile. _Gotcha._ "Is that why you really came down here, Bas?" He took a step forward, getting into Bas' personal space, and he saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took an involuntary step back. Miles pressed his advantage, backing him up as he spoke. "You've lied, and jerked me around, and fucked with me. You fucked me for information a couple days ago, and now you're back down here laughing about it. Are you a fucking comic book villain, Bas? What the hell is this about?"

Bas raised a skeptical eyebrow, his mask firmly in place. "You promised you'd be there for me, and you tried to kill me. Twice. I should do the same to you." But he hadn't stopped backing away, and when he bumped into the wall, he glanced over his shoulder, as if surprised he'd been moving the whole time. "And I could actually finish the job."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. "So you haven't _completely_ changed. You need me, Bas. Lie if you want."

"Not another fucking word or I'll-"

"You'll what?" He grinned, wolfish and a little mad, leaning in close to barely breathe his next words against Bas' face. "You need me as much as I need you. And I fucking hate it," he added bitterly, looking away for a moment. "I wish I never had to see you again after I-"

"Fuck you, Miles," Bas spat, his expression twisted in rage. But he let Miles keep him pinned against the wall, as his hands unconsciously grabbed at his hips. Not to pull him closer or push him away. Just to hold him there. "You wanna kill me? Kill me. Just- make up your fucking _mind._ "

Miles stared, understanding dawning. "Is that why you keep pushing me? You want- You want me to hate you."

"Why would I wa-"

"Because at least then I'd feel _something_ about you."

Bas' eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to protest, but fell silent, torn between denying everything and breaking down to confess.

Miles didn't bother suppressing his joyless smile at the sight. Bas had all the cards, but _he_ had the power, finally. And he intended to use it.

He moved one hand across the wall, sliding his fingers along Bas' neck, a caress, a tease. "You'd have me hate you. Better than nothing, right? Is that how desperate you are for me?"

And there was no hiding that he was. Bas' eyes were dark, his chest rapidly rising and falling, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing down at Miles' lips.

Miles had never seen him so conflicted, so unsure of himself, so desperate, and he was reminded of the way he himself had looked at Bas when he'd come strolling in here with promises of everything he had so sorely missed.

Bas had taken advantage of that. Maybe it was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine.

"You want me to feel something, Bas?" he asked, locking eyes with him. He leaned in closer, their faces so close he could count his eyelashes, feel his quick gasps for air against his lips. "Make me."

He expected bravado, laughter, deflection. But what he got was Bas surging forward to kiss him fiercely, shoving his tongue in Miles' mouth with more passion than finesse, without a hint of of gentleness.

And what could he do but yank him forward by the collar and kiss him back? He'd asked for this, wanted it, wanted _him_ despite his words to the contrary and how badly he knew he shouldn't, and now that he had the chance, he was going to _take._

Bas was in no better shape than Miles, as his hands clutched at Miles' bare back, his hips grinding up against his, the hard line of his cock obvious against Miles' hipbone.

Last time, he'd been tied up, had known that Bas was using him, hadn't really allowed himself to enjoy this. But now - now he knew exactly what Bas was doing. He just didn't care. And he intended to take what he could, damn the consequences, just as Bas had done to him.

That knowledge gave him an intoxicating freedom, and he let himself grasp at any part of Bas he wanted, to grind against him, to groan into the other man's mouth when he reached down to slide the heel of his palm down Miles' aching cock.

Bas pulled away, but Miles didn't consider for a second that he was rethinking this. "Need-" Bas managed, pulling his hands away and reaching for the buttons on his own uniform.

"No." Miles grabbed his hands, holding them still between them.

He put up a token effort to continue, but Miles held fast, and he groaned, trying to pull Miles' hands over to unbutton the jacket himself and leaned forward to bite at his jawline. "Please- I need-"

" _You_ need?" He leaned back, and Bas made a noise of objection when he pulled out of range. His breathing was ragged and he looked _desperate,_ and though eyes were dark and wild, at least Miles could hold his gaze now. "You come down here after what you pulled, and start saying what _you_ need? If that's all you're thinking about, then-"

Bas actually _growled_ at this, yanking his hands free and dropping to his knees on the cold concrete floor, his fingers working at Miles' pants, unbuttoning them and yanking them down like he couldn't wait another second. His cock sprang free, leaking precome and achingly hard, and Miles gasped at the cool basement air, but he didn't suffer long, as without a moment's hesitation, Bas leaned forward and swallowed him down.

"Jesus _fuck_."

Bas just hummed, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and how was it possible for someone to look _that_ smug and amused with a cock in his mouth?

"Forgot you could- _fuck,_ Bas." It was too much, too much too quickly, and he leaned forward to rest his head against the wall, one hand bracing himself so he didn't collapse as he stared at Bas on his knees, his lips stretched obscenely around Miles' cock, his fingers digging in to Miles' hips.

"You love this, don't you?" Miles breathed, staring down at him, scared to blink, not wanting to miss a second.

Bas hummed agreement, making Miles bite at the inside of his cheek to hold back the groan that threatened to escape. His thumbs caressed his hipbones, almost tenderly, while he hollowed his cheeks, the suction almost more than Miles could take, and the contrast made Miles' knees wobble.

"Love being on your knees for me." He couldn't stop himself from saying this shit now that he'd gotten started. All those years imagining this very thing, thinking he'd never have it again... He had to take advantage of the opportunity now that he had it. "I'm the only one you'd do this for. Big- big bad President Monroe, fucking scourge of the Midwest. Nobody knows how much you've been dying to have my cock in your mouth, right Bas?"

Bas groaned, his eyes fluttering closed at the words.

Miles managed a grin. "You like the sound of that, huh? Bet you wouldn't even be able to talk even if you weren't gagging on my cock."

He pulled off with an obscene sound, looking up at him with the blue eyes that Miles had never, ever been able to say no to. "You're wrong," he replied, his lips shiny with spit and precome he didn't bother to wipe off. "I never gag."

With a smirk, he leaned forward again, his lips sealing perfectly around him, and Miles groaned at the tight, wet heat surrounding him again, better than he could ever remember, until he felt the head of his dick bump the back of his mouth.

But Bas just kept going, taking a deep breath before relaxing his throat and slowly, painfully slowly, using his grip on Miles' hips to guide him forward, further and further, sliding him into his throat until he had taken all of him down.

"Fucking- fuck, Bas." He could barely look at him, it was too much, but he didn't want to miss a second of this, couldn't get enough of the image, could barely believe it was really happening again. He'd thought about it so many times in the years since he'd left - he'd take himself in hand and imagine Bas's hands on him, one wrapped around his cock, the other grabbing his hip tightly, leaving finger-shaped bruises that he could look at later and remember who put them there-

But god, those fantasies couldn't compare, weren't even close to the real thing,

He wanted nothing more than to grab Bas' arms and yank him up, kiss him breathless, wrap his fingers around Bas' aching cock, hear him whimpering and feel his hot breath against his ear as he came all over his fingers-

But he couldn't. He- he was making a point here. He was trying to- to show Bas that he wasn't the only one who'd changed, who could use people's feelings against them.

Right?

But it was getting more and more challenging to remember even his own name, much less that he was trying to teach Bas a lesson, as Bas swallowed around him, looked up and caught his eyes before using his hold on his hips to pull him forward slightly, just a suggestion, an invitation.

An invitation for Miles to fuck his throat.

It would take a stronger man than him to say no to that.

"Christ, Bas," he groaned, reaching down to twine the fingers of one hand through his hair before snapping his hips forward.

The motion pushed Bas back against the wall, hemmed in by Miles' legs on either side of him, Miles' body above and before him, but he just let him, let him take everything he wanted. But he just took it, let Miles put him wherever he want, and Miles couldn't take it, clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to last.

But it was too good, too much, and he'd been on edge for far too long already. He forced his eyes open and looked down, only to see Bas staring straight up at his face, his eyes wide and trusting and full of _want_ and some emotion Miles didn't dare to name and so familiar, so much like the Bas he'd loved for years, that he couldn't help a whimper. "Missed you," he whispered before he could stop himself, and Bas reached up to gently take the hand Miles had tangled in his hair and pull it down to rest against his cheek.

That was all it took to push him over the edge, and he came down Bas' throat with a cry as his body trembled and knees shook and everything was _fuck, Bas, Bas, Bas_.

By the time his head cleared enough to see what was in front of him again, Bas had tucked him back into his pants and was standing up, brushing the dirt from his uniform, and stubbornly refused to meet his eyes.

But that didn't change the fact that his hair was a wreck, his lips red, his uniform a rumpled mess, the hard line of his cock tenting his uniform.

He looked fucked. Wrecked. _Used._

And Miles had done that to him.

"Bas-" he started, but Bas raised a hand to cut him off.

"Don't, Miles." He sounded exhausted, all bravado gone. "Just- just don't."

"I didn't mean-"

"I know what you meant. I know what you were doing. More than you knew when I came down and-" Bas cut himself off, shaking his head as he walked toward the door. "It doesn't matter."

"What happened to us, Bas?" He blurted out the question before thinking about it, and he winced at the possible answers - _I destroyed you, I tried to kill you, you tried to kill me..._

Bas paused with his hand on the door and after a long moment's hesitation, finally turned to face him, but didn't reply.

"We- we were good. A long time ago. But now we just-"

"Bring out the worst in each other?" Bas finished, and his face was the most open and honest Miles had seen it in years.

All he could do was nod. "Yeah."

Bas shook his head. "Wish I knew," he said, and pulled the door shut behind him.


End file.
